


Services Rendered

by jillyfae



Series: Sweetest of All Sounds [7]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Food Kink, Oral Sex, Romance, Seduction, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Vael and Adelaide Hawke have been denying their attraction for years.  Until he is released from his vows, and steps away from the Chantry.  What will he do, now that he is free?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> original kmeme prompt: "So after Hawke tells Sebastian that the Flint Company has been dealt with, Sebastian wants to pay Hawke for services rendered. Only problem is that Sebastian doesn't have much money and would like to save what little he has for his campaign to retake Starkhaven. So Sebastian finds another way to show his appreciation."
> 
> This pieces takes place within my own personal head-canon, which assumes Hawke met Sebastian Vael during her first year in Kirkwall, when he was still a Brother in good standing before his family's deaths, and she was trying to play nice with the smugglers.

“Prince Vael!” Hawke stood up, stretching her shoulders back as she worked out the stiffness from sitting at her desk for too many hours. “I hear congratulations are in order. Officially recognized by the Viscount?”

A soft chuckle escaped the man entering the room as he shook his head slightly. “Being Prince Starkhaven-in-Exile doesn’t mean I magically have an army at my back, but I’m hoping it will assist in persuading some more support out of former friends and allies. And I have you to thank for helping me get this far.” He paused, head tilted slightly to the side as if he was considering something.

“Happy to oblige,” Hawke smiled slightly. “I’m not quite sure how it happened, but hunting down mercenaries and demons is oddly part of my normal job description.”

“Don’t dismiss yourself so lightly,” Vael insisted, taking a step closer, then another, almost gliding towards her across the room, something different about his expression, something dark, almost _predatory_ , and she found herself moving backward, step by step, drawing out his pursuit until she bumped into the bookcase, the soft shifting of books muffling the impact.

“I regret that I will not be able to reclaim my throne and gift you as lavishly as you deserve, any time in the near future.” He was standing right in front of her, so close she could almost hear him breathing, and was slightly worried he could hear her swallow past a suddenly dry mouth.

“Oh, no gifts needed.” She was pretty sure her voice was about an octave higher than usual, but maybe she was just imagining it and he wouldn’t notice? “Only upside to that disastrous Deep Roads expedition, after all. Don’t have to worry about the bills.”

“There are other ways to express gratitude beyond money.” He smiled, slowly, the expression completely at odds with the Brother he used to be. “As you once suggested in fact.”

“Who, me? I may have, but, really...” She was stuttering, trying to reconcile this _hunt_ with the flushed retreat she’d gotten once upon a time, the Chantry-boy who’d needed to pray obviously no longer in residence, as Prince Vael, _Sebastian_ , slid even closer, his hands gripping the shelves to either side of her.

“You’re the one who flirted with me, Hawke,” he leaned in to whisper in her ear, and she suddenly had trouble breathing, surrounded as she was by strong arms bracketing her shoulders, his heat just a breath away, _that voice_ turned rough and dark and enticing. “Unless you wish to take back your invitation, now that I am free to answer it?”

_Maker, he smells good._

Her nostrils flared in appreciation, some small part of her brain entertained by separating out the individual components of his scent... the metallic tang of his armor and chain, the warm honey of leather straps, a slightly dusty, airy sort of whisper she was pretty sure was feathers and wood, something rich and almost sweet that she couldn’t identify, ( _did archers oil their bows, or was that something else entirely? soap?_ ) and the lingering traces of incense and wax, of over a decade spent near the Chantry’s braziers and candles. Plus a hint of sweat and _male_ that seemed determined to bypass her brain and make her slightly dizzy.

“I don’t require payment from my friends, Sebastian,” she managed to squeak, her hands clenched at her sides so she wouldn’t grab him by the hair and shove her face in his neck and just _inhale_. Yes, she’d been not-so-idly fantasizing about the man for years, but she never actually thought anything would _happen_.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He sounded positively affronted, which really ought to have been funny, but the husky tang it gave his accent was making her weak in the knees and the trouble she’d been having with her breathing appeared to have spread to her voice, so all she could do was make a questioning sort of grunt, words being quite beyond her power.

He lowered his arms, taking several quick light steps away from her, muttering softly under his breath, something about embarrassingly out of practice? She finally managed to take a proper sized breath, even if it was a bit shaky, and was all prepared to flash a smile and tell him not to worry about, misunderstanding between friends, and _would he like some tea?_

Before she’d managed any of it, he twisted back towards her, turning lightly on his toes, and she was so distracted by the unexpected grace of the movement that she quite forgot to say anything at all. Which gave him plenty of time to drop smoothly down on one knee in front of her, his grasp warm as he lightly lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips impossibly soft and warm as he brushed them across her knuckles, and there was a rather painfully delicious twist in her chest from somewhere in the vague vicinity of her heart, and _Maker, is it hot in here?_

“I humbly beg your forgiveness, Lady Hawke, for letting you doubt, even for a moment, my ardent respect and desire for you.” He slowly raised his gaze up past her arm, following the line of her body all the way up to her face, and she felt the blush rising up from her chest and across her cheeks as those unfairly wonderfully distractingly blue eyes of his seemed to be trying to devour her by sight alone.

She’d never heard anyone talk like that, not and mean it, not to anyone, and most especially not to _her_ , since she’d spent most of her adult life more prone to the occasional fun romp than something like... this, whatever this was, though it felt remarkably close to a seduction. _Or courtship_ , and she squashed that tiny little thought before she could listen to it, but she still had no idea what to say. Or do. Fainting might be nice? _I bet he’d catch me._

Feeling her cheeks flush even hotter at the thought, she dropped her gaze from his and opened her mouth, to say, something, but she still had no idea _what_ , so she closed it again. It was definitely _very_ hot in the study now, and she was pretty sure she’d somehow fallen into one of those romantic stories Bethany had always liked to read, the classy ones, not the kind Varric and Isabela snickered over and occasionally wrote, _then again, one of Varric’s or Isabela’s tales really wouldn’t be unwelcome right about now either..._

“Oh, Adelaide,” and there went all her breath again, rushing out of her lungs at the way her name sounded in his mouth, as he turned her hand over and kissed her palm, lips still warm and soft but firmer now, determined. “You are a treasure, and it would be my honor to show you how very much I _appreciate_ ” his mouth moved up and kissed her again, right at the curve where her wrist joined her hand, and she was embarrassed to hear herself practically whimper, though she wasn’t sure if it was at the butterfly light touch or the way he’d managed to twist his words into a decadent promise, “your strength and honor,” he kissed her again, just a little bit higher up her forearm, and she closed her eyes to savor the sensation, “your assistance when I had no one else in the world who understood,” another kiss, then his hands sliding her sleeve up, out of his way, “no one else who was willing to help me,” _oh Maker, is that his tongue?_ “to stand by me while I did my duty to my family.”

He had worked his way up to the inside of her elbow, and she was pretty sure she’d never been particularly sensitive there before, but now his mouth felt glorious, better than just about anything, ever, and if he could do all that just with her _arm_...

“Oh, well, when you put it like t hat, I suppose I can forgive you.”

His breath was a soft caress against her skin when he laughed, and he tilted his head to smile up at her, sly and delighted and _gorgeous_ and _fatal_. “I’m desperately relieved to hear it.”

 _Oh no, the desperation’s all mine, I’m sure of it._ She was rather afraid she was gaping at him like some sort of hideous nug-bronto-hybrid _and goodness I’ve been spending too much time with Varric if that’s what I’m thinking about right now of all moments_ but apparently it looked better than she thought because he pushed himself up to his feet and his hand cupped her chin, and he had a lovely callus right on the side of his finger from where the arrows rested that caught on the skin of her jaw and _oooohhhh_.

Her brain finally shut up at the first slight brush of his lips, and the man tasted even better than he smelled. She felt the warmth ease down her body, from her mouth all the way to her toes as he slowly increased the pressure, and her lips eased open at the first light licks of his tongue, sweet and slow and gentle.

For just an instant they stood there, beside the hearth, barely a hand’s-breadth apart, his hand still soft against her chin, mouths almost tentative, savoring this first, delectable taste.

But they didn’t stay tentative for long.

Remarkably soon she was wide-mouthed and panting, hotter than the fire a few steps away, one leg wrapped up on his hip, foot tucked tight against his body to hold him close, her hands pinned above her head, his grip hard and unrelenting as his entire body held her tight against the shelves and she was going to have the oddest striped bruises across her back and arms but she was bloody determined to devour him, now she finally had the chance.

“Sebastian,” she sighed out when his mouth pulled away, his lips moving slowly up the line of her jaw as her head fell back against a book w ith a slight thump. _I have no idea what happened to the shy man who blushed at Isabela and kept trying to save Merrill’s soul, and he was very nice and I liked him as a friend, but blasphemy be damned, Maker, please let me keep this version?_

“Yes, my Adelaide?” She shuddered at the soft rasp of his whisper, dark velvet, an invisible, intangible caress, and moaned, softly, in the back of her throat.

“Oh?” Sebastian pulled back slightly, his voice now light and amused, his grip loosening just before his hands slid gently down her arms. “Is that how it is?”

She blinked at him, wondering how his brain was apparently still functional while hers had gone on some mysterious voyage far, far away. To Orlais, perhaps, or Antiva. She was going to ask him what he was doing, really she was, when his hands finished their caress down her arms and continued up the back of her neck, nails gently scraping against her skin before loosening the tie that held her hair up and out of her way. Her head tilted forward as he freed the dark thick strands, running his hands through them, fingers gentle as they caught and tugged and smoothed, over and over. “Hmm,” she sighed, questions forgotten as her arms settled across his shoulders, her body loose under his touch.

“Despite all my vows,” he spoke up softly, his silken voice contemplative, “I used to dream of you, about your taste, your skin, your hair against my fingers.” He gave one slight tug, her head falling back against the book again, and she felt his thumbs move down the front of her neck, from jaw to collarbone. “I used to imagine what you liked, trying to decide if you preferred a delicate touch,” his fingers were light, almost teasing, as his hands continued down the front of her tunic, following the curves of breasts, smoothing down her ribs and around to her back, and she sighed again, soft and pleased.

“Or, perhaps,” he suddenly yanked her away from the wall, hard against his chest, arms as tight and firm as iron, teeth unexpectedly sharp against her neck, her ear, his voice a growl that shot heat all the way down her spine, toes curling in her boots, “you wanted someone who would take charge, take away your worries and responsibilities, who would take, and take, and take again, until everything else was forgotten.”

She wrapped her second leg around him, thighs tight as she groaned her consent, as she tilted her hips and rubbed against him. _Yes, take._

“I wondered what I could do to drive you wild,” his voice was getting rougher, raspier, huskier with each word, “if you’d want me to play with your breasts, your hips, your legs.”

“Please,” she whispered, not even sure what she was asking for besides more, more of him, more of his hands, more of his words, more of something, everything, anything to feed the ache growing inside her.

“And now I know, ” one hand cradled the back of her head, supporting her as he tucked his own head down, right against her ear. “ _Tha gaol agam ort,_ ” she couldn’t breath, lungs too tight even to moan as the impossibly intoxicating sound poured out of him, “ _mo ghràdh bithbhuan, is thu m'annsachd,_ ” his voice wrapped around each word, his brogue thickening and deepening, a perfect match for whatever it was he was saying that was making spots dance in front of her eyes, making muscles clench desperately around him, arms and legs and fingers and toes hot and tight and clinging, making her gasp and moan in his arms.

“Ah, woman, you are beautiful.” His accent was so thick it took her a moment to realize he’d switched to something she could understand as he nuzzled at her neck, each breath hot and heavy and wonderful against her skin. “You will drive me to my death, and I will adore every moment.”

She almost sobbed in agreement, fingers desperate and shaking as they searched his armor for buckles or edges or _something_ that would get her hands on him, on his skin, would get her off the bookcase and him inside her. “You,” she finally managed, pushing against his shoulders, “back.”

He stumbled back obligingly until he bumped suddenly into the chair she’d been occupying when he arrived, and they tumbled awkwardly to a seat. She laughed, delighted as she caught his eyes, dark and heavy and full of lust, as out of control as she felt, and then his hands slid under her tunic, skin against skin, and she arched her back and _keened_ , all amusement gone as she dug her fingers into his hair and yanked herself to his mouth, growling deep in her throat as she nipped at his bottom lip, as she kissed and licked and bit along his jaw and his neck, only stopping when his hands got in the way, and they spent a desperate few minutes pulling and pushing and unbuckling and throwing assorted layers of armor and mail and tunics and linens out of the way.

His leggings got caught on his greaves, which they hadn’t actually taken off in their mad rush to reveal as much skin as possible, but she’d certainly gotten enough out of the way for her purposes, and she pushed back out of his lap, knees landing on the floor with a loud thump _that’s going to leave bruises_ right before she slid her mouth over the half-hard length of his cock.

“Adelaide!” His hiss of pleased surprise slithered and tingled down her spine as his hips bucked up underneath her, and her mouth was wonderfully full of Sebastian, hot and heavy and salty with just the slightest bitter tang that made it all taste even better. She hummed happily in the back of her throat as she shifted and ran her tongue slowly up from the base, lapping gently at the liquid already starting to bead at his tip.

His hands slid over her head and smoothed against her hair, and she sat back on her heels , clicking her tongue at him. “My turn.” She fumbled through the pile of discarded clothing until she found the sash from her tunic, and slid behind the chair just long enough to lash his hands behind him, one loop around the chair back, his shoulders deliciously taut above the knots. “I’m in charge.”

“Whatever you desire,” Sebastian agreed, and she shivered happily at the rasp in his voice before she settled back between his knees and dipped her head down to taste him again.

His voice settled into soft encouraging murmurs, the ‘ah yes’ and ‘oh Adelaide’ a delicious, warming accompaniment to her actions as she alternately licked and kissed, savoring the weight on her tongue, his hot flesh smooth against the inside of her mouth, growing larger and harder as she gently sucked his length.

“Maker, your mouth, Adelaide, so hot and wet, and your lips....” Sebastian groaned, words stuttering to a halt as she finally got him all the way down her throat, (which took about three tries before she managed it without choking, being dreadfully out of practice, but oh, she _needed_ him as far inside as she could get him) and _mercy_ , the noises he made, deep in his throat, she could feel them in her chest, and she was going to do this again the very first chance she got, because she needed those sounds, every day, for the rest of her life.

With wonderfully perfect timing, so she could shy away from that thought without noticing it too much, his groan grew louder and his hips shifted upwards again, and the length of him filling her mouth and her throat grew even harder and stiffer and she was swallowing his seed, burning down her throat, the warmth spreading through her whole body as she sucked the last drops out of him, as he shuddered beneath her. _Maker, I have wanted to do that for_ years _._

Feeling oddly spent, she gently relaxed her mouth and sat back on her heels, finally having eased her desperation enough she could take a moment to admire the view of mostly-naked-Sebastian-in-her-study. And what a view it was. Hard muscles, smooth skin, a light scattering of auburn hair, just a shade darker than that on his head. There was a trio of moles making an uneven triangle on one thigh, the white edges of a few long-healed scars; a light twist wrapped around one arm, a spider-web scraping along the side of his ribs, a painfully jagged one that looked like a knife had been disturbingly close to his navel.

She tilted her head, unable to resist the urge to reach out, fingers light against the old wound. “Stabbed in the gut?” There was a slight shake in her voice. That wasn’t the sort of thing it was easy to heal from, even with a mage handy.

“Bar fight,” he whispered, “luckily right outside the Starkhaven Circle, or my misspent youth would’ve been the death of me.”

That thought hurt more than she would’ve thought possible, and was yet another thing she was _not thinking about_. She looked up at him, feeling a slight shiver at his gaze, hot and dark and serious. “What were you fighting about?”

“Defending a lady’s honor.” His smile softened just a bit. “Not that she appreciated it. First thing she did when the Healer said I’d make it was slap me. Hard.”

“Did you deserve it?”

“Unquestionably.” He dipped his head, shadows darkening his eyes. “My turn,” his smile was even darker, and his hands were suddenly in her hair, his lips descending on hers as he slid her back, and down, until she was lying on the rug in front of the hearth, his body pinning her to the floor. His tongue slid past her lips, sweeping through her mouth, and he’d pulled back and started kissing down her neck before her brain finally managed to send a message past the euphoria her body was feeling.

“Hey,” she squeaked, as he chose that precise moment to suck a nipple into his mouth, “unnnhhh.”

“Yes, Adelaide?” He pulled away from her breast and slid back up her body until he could smile into her eyes, his nose just bumping against her cheek, his body a line of heat beside her.

“Uh.”

“Yes?” He chuckled slightly as he repeated himself.

“Didn’t I tie you to the chair?”

He tilted his head just enough to aim a whisper directly into her ear. “Misspent youth had some benefits. I can teach you much better knots if you’re interested for next time. Or demonstrate on you, if you’d like that sort of thing.”

“Hmmm,” she managed to nod her agreement with that plan. Both plans. Either plan. Lots of plans. _Next time? Maker, yes, lots of next times, please?_ Turning on her side, she reached out to touch, skin-to-skin, running her hands across his arms, his chest, nails scraping gently across his muscles, following lines and planes with her fingers, tracing the scars as she felt them under her fingertips, his own hands returning the favor as he ran them down her side, calluses rough, catching on the smooth skin around her breasts, teasing her ribs, then her nipples.

Adelaide lifted her head enough to aim herself at his shoulder and bite, startling a grunt which eased into a groan as she soothed the muscle with her tongue and started working her way across his shoulder, tasting the edge of his collarbone, his chest, gently scraping her teeth down towards his nipple, sucking and licking around and around and around.

“I had a plan, when I came here,” Sebastian murmured as she pushed him onto his back to give her easier access, hands and mouth roaming hungrily across his chest. “I would take my time. I would be charming, seductive. Hopefully irresistible.”

“Definitely irresistible,” she breathed out, lifting her head to blow against his nipple.

He growled softly before rolling her back over, hands at her waist as he tugged at the ties of the skirt she somehow still had on. _Though I lost my smalls at some point?_ His mouth followed his hands as he slid down her legs, kissing her skin, light caresses of lips and tongue between words. “I would carry you up to your room and lock the door. I would slowly peel you out of your clothes. I would worship every inch of your skin.”

She moaned as his touch disappeared, opening her eyes and peering down the length of her body to watch him remove the last of his own clothing as well. Completely naked Sebastian was even better than mostly naked Sebastian.

Especially when he grinned at her, his hair all mussed and hanging over one eye, mouth quirked and eyebrows raised, mischievous and sexy and delighted and gorgeous and of course she grinned back. _Definitely irresistible_ she repeated to herself, right before he pounced, hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her, “but just one taste of you,” kissed her hard, “and I lost all self-control,” over and over again, “I forgot my plan, I needed more, always more,” kissed her until they were both panting and straining to do it again and again and _again_. “ _Is gràdhaich leam thu_."

“Uhhh,” her body arched beneath him, shoving up against his weight, heat coiling between her legs, muscles clenching again as she almost came apart just at his luscious whisper. “What _is_ that?”

“The original language of the clans that settled Starkhaven,” Sebastian murmured obligingly as his mouth and hands started working their way down her neck again. “Before they took up the trade tongue and got all respectable.” One long hot lick along her collarbone led him almost all the way back down to her breasts, but he took his time, teasing slowly across her chest without quite reaching her nipples. “No one uses it much anymore, just a few ceremonies, phrases. Some songs.” He finally latched his mouth around her, humming something soothing and lilting as his tongue laved across her nipple.

“Huh,” she panted, her chest lifting up off the floor to push into his mouth, hands gripping tightly into his shoulders as she tried to hold the rest of her body still. And failed miserably. Tongue and mouth and the vibrations of the song, shivering through her chest... _Maker, so good, can barely breathe._ “But what does it _mean_?”

He lifted his head just enough to aim a smirk at her from under his eyelashes. “I think that’ll be my little secret for now.”

“Tease,” she gasped as his mouth slid over to her other nipple, his hands busy tracing the edges of her hips and legs, sending shivers through her middle, tightening the ache of _need_ building below her stomach, deep inside. “For all I know,” she had to pause and swallow as a particularly delicious tug shot from her breast all the way to the wet heat between her legs, “you’re telling me how to shop for boots.”

“Oh, would you like some boots?” He licked softly along the bottom curve of her breast, his breath tickling as he headed down her ribs. “I would adore you with black leather wrapped around these lovely legs, and nothing else on at all.”

“I like being adored,” Adelaide managed a very shaky sigh. “I’ll remember that.”

“You’re easy to adore,” he whispered so quietly she wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all, right before the heel of his palm settled against her mound and she felt the contact shoot through her body. “And now I must ask you something.”

“uh-huh?” _What, now? Right now? Talk? Me?_ She couldn’t even manage to open her eyes, lost in sensation, her hips rotating under his touch as his hand made gentle circles, teasing friction, the light touch of her folds rubbing together.

“Some women are very sensitive here, and only enjoy indirect contact.” He started to push just a little bit harder, and she groaned, hips pushing against his hand, as hard as she could, wanting _more_. “Or do you prefer the direct approach?” His palm stopped rubbing, and one finger slid down to push against her, but she winced away with a slight hiss. _Too much._

“My apologies,” he dropped one soft kiss on her hip as his finger gentled, light teasing circles right where the heat and the ache had been building, and she groaned as the tension built again, more, always more, shivering as her body tightened under his touch, as sparks shot up and down her legs, her chest, her arms. The pressure built, her hands clenching helplessly against the rug, heels tapping slightly as she kicked the floor, the sparks colliding and churning, and she cried out as the wave crested, and her whole body went limp.

Strong arms gathered her close, and she breathed in the smell of Sebastian and sex and sighed, turning towards his warmth, tilting her head up until their mouths met, open wide, soft and languid. Lips and tongues and slight sighs, the flickering fire warming her back, Sebastian warming her skin, and everything was _perfect_.

“While I would dearly love to stay here, oh, forever,” Adelaide sighed and rested her forehead against Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m rather surprised no one’s attempted to drag us off to dinner yet.”

“Plus, you have pillows upstairs, I hope?” She could feel his nose as Sebastian nuzzled against the top of her head. “Stone floors are less than ideal, even with a rug on top.”

“I think we can manage pillows. And a mattress.”

“Lovely idea.” He dropped one soft kiss against her temple, and started to edge them both upright. “Even if it requires moving first.”

Adelaide laughed softly, and crawled over to start searching for scattered clothing. “We can steal some food from Orana on the way.”

“Hmmm.” His wordless hum sounded remarkably, _smug_ , and she twisted to look over her shoulder. _Uh_ , her brain stuttered eloquently, caught once again on the _view_ , Sebastian sprawled across _her_ hearth, long legs stretching across the rug, the muscles on his arms clearly defined as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, warm firelight flickering along shoulders and chest and stomach and _not going to stare at his cock, goodness yes I am, yummy, wait what was I doing?_

_Admiring those dangerous blue eyes, dark and hot again as he, what, ogles my arse?_

“Enjoying the view?” _Oh, look, I can be smug too._ She even tilted her legs a bit, just to give her backside that extra wiggle.

“Oh, yes.” And he did that remarkable pounce again, somehow shoving off his elbows and heels in one smooth lunge, hand grabbing her hair right at the nape of her neck and twisting until she came up off her hands, their chests slamming together, kneeling body to body, his kiss rough and ruthless as he plundered her lips, as she clenched her hands behind his shoulders and moaned happily into his mouth.

And then he squeezed her arse and she lost the kiss, gasping and laughing as he smirked at her. _Again._ “But that will have to wait, just a bit,” he kissed the tip of her nose, light and playful. “You promised me food. And a mattress.”

“Then you have to let me get dressed. I am not walking up the staircase naked.”

“Ah, if you insist.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Madam, please, Messere Vael did ask they not be disturbed when he arrived,” Bodahn trotted behind Leandra as she headed for the study door.

“It’s Prince Vael, now, Bodahn,” Leandra allowed herself to be briefly distracted. “The Viscount formally announced his support of Sebastian’s claims just this morning. And my daughter is late for dinner, so I’m afraid they’ll just have to suffer the interruption.” She turned back to the door and started to shove it open.

And then very quietly closed it and turned back to the dwarf hovering behind her.

“You know, Bodahn, I think you’re right. We’ll leave them be. And don’t worry about formal dinner service, tonight, just send a tray up to my room, will you?”

“Of course, Madame Leandra,” Bodahn bowed slightly and headed back towards the kitchen.

“Daryn!” Leandra waited for the mabari to trot over and patted him gently behind the ears. “Guard the study for Adelaide, will you? Make sure no one disturbs her and her... guest.” Daryn gave one great big friendly woof, his tail thumping once against the ground before he settled down in front of the door. “Thank you, dear.” She leaned down to give him one more pat on the top of his giant head and turned to head up the stairs.

_Princess Vael, Adelaide Hawke. Has a nice sound to it. He’ll take good care of our girl, Malcolm, I’m sure of it._

Whistling softly, Leandra turned into her room. She hadn’t ever particularly wanted to catch her daughter _in flagrante delicto_ , (and didn’t Arcanum have some lovely phrases, though she had always been surprised the Orlesians hadn’t thought up one better, being well, Orlesian), but she had to admit she was glad Adelaide had such good taste. Sebastian was a nice boy.

Hopefully they locked the door next time.


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time since Orana had accepted her job offer and turned the Amell-estate kitchen into a haven of wonderful smells and roasts and soups and things with way too much butter and sugar in them to be good for you, Adelaide was pretty sure she hated her.

Orana was a sweetheart, slim and beautiful, with a dusting of flour on one cheek that she would be mortified to discover later, and shyer than Bethany had been on her worst days, and Adelaide assuredly couldn’t yell at her, but _Maker_ , why wouldn’t she leave?

“There you go, Mistress,” Orana wiped her hands on her apron, ducked her head nervously, and practically scuttled out of the room. Adelaide felt one instant of searingly strong guilt for failing to make the poor girl comfortable as she served them wonderful food. _I’m a horrible employer. And why must she keep calling me Mistress?_

And then the latch clicked and Sebastian, who was so much nicer than she was and had managed to politely usher Orana to the door, turned the lock and she _lunged_ , shoving him up against the wood so she could kiss him again, her entire body pressed against his as she stood on her toes and leaned into him. Fifteen minutes had been much too long to go without any contact at all.

Luckily he seemed to agree with her, holding her tightly, his mouth as frantic as hers as he moved from her lips to her cheek to her jaw to her neck and back again. _How am I ever going to make it through an entire day? In public? Ever again?_

He swept her up in his arms, and her heart did that awkward giddy lurch she was finding it harder and harder to pretend she didn’t notice because it kept happening because he was damnably perfect and handsome and romantic and this was not romantic this was lust and she was going to ruin it if she didn’t stop trying to pretend it was more than she could handle and... “Hey!” Adelaide smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“No we’re not.” He eased them down in the armchair with a smile. “I am going to feed you dinner, so when we finally make it to that lovely bed of yours, there’s no reason either of us will have to get up for _hours_.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “You’re so smart. No wonder I like you.” And she leaned forward to kiss him again, softer this time, because his mouth was _right there_ and it had nothing to do with the contended ache in her chest at the thought of hours with Sebastian. _Hours. Mine. For hours._

“You’re surprisingly biddable.” Sebastian laughed softly as their lips parted, though his forehead shifted to rest against hers, keeping them close. “Are you sure you’re Hawke? Because the Hawke I know is always arguing with m--”

She popped a piece of cheese in his mouth to shush him. “Dinner?” She laughed as his eyebrows rose, eyes bright with amusement as he chewed and swallowed. “Biddable later.”

“Promise?” His voice had just dropped in pitch, and his accent was extra thick again. That was, just, _wow_. Goodness, she was all hot and breathless again.

“Well, you were briefly cooperative when I tied you to the chair.” She could hear the quiver in her voice, her breath catching in her throat. Sebastian liked it as much as she liked his accent, judging from the way his eyes were focused on her mouth, the feel of his hands tightening against her. “It would only be fair if I returned the favor.”

Sebastian positively growled as he reached over and grabbed an olive, his _glare_ never leaving her face as he popped it into her mouth. “Eat quickly, woman.”

“No.” She rolled the firm salty oval around her mouth, sucking gently for several long moments before she closed her eyes, teeth pushing until she felt it pop, the heat of the pimento and the brine of the pickled flesh combining pleasantly on her tongue.

The grunt she heard escape Sebastian’s throat was perilously close to a moan, and oh, she was quite sure her smile as she opened her eyes again was really an evil little smirk. Adelaide very carefully pushed with her tongue until a hint of green just peeked out through her lips, raising her eyebrows as she asked her silent question. _Hungry?_

She shivered slightly when he leaned towards her mouth, breath warm and soft. His teeth scraped gently across her lips, and he slowly eased the half an olive out her mouth and into his own, so close she could _feel_ him swallow, delicious and slow. So of course she had to do it again.

It was even better the second time, the shiver deeper, the warmth hotter, his lips firmer. And then he took a turn, managing to suck the pimento right out of his olive, and pass just the slim red heat out of his lips and into her mouth. _He is sinfully good with that mouth of his, isn’t he?_

They moved on to cheese, and fruit, and bread, and bits of roast and ham, taking turns eating and feeding and kissing and licking, and Orana was obviously a genius, and Adelaide needed to give her a raise, _or three_ , because this was definitely, far and away, no doubt about it, the best meal she’d ever had.

And then Sebastian held out one of Orana’s cinnamon pastries, and she took much too huge a bite, pieces of it falling all over her, and he bent down and sucked the crumbs out of her cleavage, tongue sliding up her chest as he picked up the rest, and she wasn’t in the slightest bit hungry anymore.

Well, not for cheese or bread or pastry, anyways.

Not even for any more black cherries, and she’d quite enjoyed licking sweet-sour-cherry juice off of Sebastian’s chin. Very juicy, those cherries, and such a lovely dark red color when they burst.

Not that she hadn’t been paying more attention to his mouth and his hands than the food for at least half a candle-mark, but really, she couldn’t take it anymore, panting and moaning as his tongue slid along her skin, warm and strong and wet, but instead of taking the hint and ravishing her properly, he simply lifted one finger gently to her lips. She stuck her tongue out, managing one quick flick against his skin that made him hiss wonderfully. And pull his entire hand away again before she could manage to nip or suck or kiss him properly. _Tease._

“Shh,” he whispered. “We’re not quite done yet.” So she made herself still, made herself watch, eyes wide and nostrils flaring in anticipation as he reached over and plucked one last, solitary cherry off the fruit tray and lifted it to his lips, carefully nipping a tiny section of skin off the side, and she had to remind herself to breathe, and swallow, because _oh that mouth_.

Her mouth parted as the cherry approached, but he nudged his hand upward, just a little, and then she felt it, cool and wet, the curve of the naked fruit soft against her skin as he smoothed it gently along the edge of her lips, just out of reach. She caught a drop of sour juice on her tongue, her head tilting to follow his touch as he traced her mouth, all the way around her lips, slow and sweet, his eyes fixed on her tongue as she caught it between her teeth, holding in a sigh.

“Ah,” he sighed before lifting the cherry and sucking it slowly into his mouth. Adelaide whimpered softly, rather disturbed to discover she was, perhaps, jealous of a piece of fruit. Very jealous, even.

But then his finger was close enough she could lunge forward, just a bit, and snap her mouth around it, not quite biting, her teeth nipping just enough to hold him in place as she sucked the juice off the tip. His soft grunt was light and raspy and almost a sigh and almost a growl and it sounded _wonderful_. And then he twisted his finger slightly, stroking lightly across the roof of her mouth, and her lips fell open in shock. _That has no right feeling so good, all tickly and tingly and..._

“Uhhh,” she managed to breathe out around his hand.

“Mmm,” he agreed, pulling his hand away and moving his mouth close enough to kiss. Only he didn’t. His tongue darted out, light and quick, licking and lapping at the edges of her lips, tracing the path he’d made with the cherry, all the way around, until her entire mouth was tingling, lips twitching under the delicate onslaught. Finally, finally, he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth to get the very last drop of juice.

“Delicious,” he whispered. She tilted her chin up just enough to bump his mouth with hers, to slide her tongue past his lips, to taste the lingering hints of cherry as she kissed him, slowly, thoroughly, humming her agreement. _Very delicious_.

Sebastian’s hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs two lines of heat underneath her jaw as he tilted her head up just a bit more, deepening their kiss until she could feel her pulse throbbing wildly in her neck, until she could feel her head spinning, dizzy and lightheaded despite being securely braced by chair and man.

“We should get these clothes off, before we move.” He’d pulled back just far enough to whisper into her mouth, and she felt like she was swallowing his words, hot and heavy, warming her as they traveled through her chest, past her stomach, to settle low in her body, a promise of things to come “Make sure we get rid of any food. Wouldn’t want to get crumbs in the sheets.”

“Hmm, splendid idea,” Adelaide agreed, leaning forward to lick along the curve of his ear, inspiring a grunt of air to escape him before he nudged her slightly, just far enough back he could get his arms between them. His hands tugged gently as he untied her sash, then smoothed the edges of her tunic, palms flat and warm and heavy against her stomach, her chest, and finally her arms, as the fabric was pushed slowly off of her.

She sighed at the feel of his hands, running down the skin of her shoulders, arching slightly against him, head leaning back as she closed her eyes. His hands stopped unexpectedly at her elbows, his mouth suddenly descending to her breast, sucking through the fabric of undershirt and breastband, pulling deep into his mouth, and she pushed herself against him, thoroughly distracted from just about anything else, so she didn’t realize until she tried to move that he’d tied her wrists behind her, her tunic thoroughly and expertly tangled.

His chest was heavy against her as he leaned forward, his arms still behind her, his body pressed to hers and she moaned, amazed at how _good_ she felt, completely surrounded by warmth, by weight, by _him_ , his breath a whisper against her ear. “As I could get out of the chair, just tug if you need to move,” he tucked the end of her sleeve in between her fingers, and then shifted her until her back was against the chair, her legs spread across the seat. She watched him drop to the floor, lowering himself slowly so he didn’t thud like she had earlier, gaze steady on her face until he’d settled, and a slow wicked smile lightened his eyes and twisted his lips. “My turn.”

The bastard started at her _toes_.

Hands and fingers, firm and perfect, finding every knot and crick and sensitive curve, chased by his mouth, his lips, his teeth, his tongue, ruthlessly determined to map every inch of her, commenting between each lick, each nip, each suck, each kiss, whispering about her skin, her taste, her legs, accompanied by her sighs, “please, yes, please, Sebastian,” and the soft rustle of her skirt as he slid it up and out of his way.

Finally, one slow hot lick up the top of her thigh, and then he jumped right over the aching wet heat between her legs and pulled her stomach forward, his tongue deep in her navel, his hands wrapped around the ties on her skirt, and he took a lengthy detour around her hips, all fingertips and thumbs and tongue before returning to her legs, working his way back down again, finally sliding her skirt and smalls off as he went.

She was pretty sure he wasn’t even making much sense anymore, but he kept _talking_ , sense, nonsense, it didn’t matter, his voice rasping against nerves she didn’t even know she had, her legs twitching under his touch, trying desperately not to thrust her entire body out of the chair at him, her own words lost to aching whimpers.

 _If he doesn’t fuck me soon I am going to_ kill _him._

Finally, hot breath against her mound, his tongue, _his tongue_ sliding in deep, exploring and teasing and circling and lapping. She groaned, all the way from her diaphragm up through her chest and out her throat, tilting her hips and pushing herself down the chair and closer to him, into his mouth. It felt spectacular. Wonderful. Amazing.

And it wasn’t enough. He was going to make her explode, any minute, pleasure and sparks and heat, and it wasn’t enough. She wanted more, she wanted her arms wrapped around him, she’d wanted him inside her for too many lonely years and _Maker_ this wasn’t enough.

She bucked her whole body, pushing him back and sliding out of her seat, landing awkwardly on the floor between his body and the chair as she fumbled with the sleeve he’d given her, arms flailing as she tossed her tunic away and grabbed him, pulling him in for a kiss, his lips wet and slick, smelling and tasting of her, and she shoved herself against him, swept her tongue through his mouth, fast and hard, before she pushed his head back.

“Bed,” she hissed directly in his face.

He staggered to his feet, dragging her with him, kissing her again as soon as they were stand ing, “bed,” he agreed breathlessly, already moving.

Her hands were under his shirt, lifting and pulling. They paused as it almost got caught on his ears and elbows, but she yanked ruthlessly, throwing it behind her, hands splayed across his chest as soon as she could get them there, her mouth dipping to follow their lead, tongue on skin, tasting as her palms moved down his stomach, one thumb tracing the thickening of hair around his navel before following the trail down to the edge of his breeches. Just the tips of her fingers slid under the top of the fabric, pulling slightly as she moved her hands back along his hips, then forward again, gently easing his erection out into the open air, unable to resist one light lick along the hard length of him, his hand settling to rest on her head with a moan at the sensation, before she shoved the last of his clothes down around his ankles, following them to crouch at his feet.

She looked up as he lifted first one foot, then the other, breath catching and tightening in her chest, the sight of his cock jutting out proudly, his eyes hooded and hot as they stared down at her, his fingers sliding to cup the back of her head, to lift her back up to her feet, to lift her mouth to his again. Her lips were soft, sensitive to every movement he made, every lick, every kiss, every groan as he drew out that ache in her chest until it filled her whole body, shivering and quaking and wanting, panting her need against his mouth, his face, his skin, his breath hot and ragged in return.

They stumbled together one more step, two, hit the edge of her mattress, tumbled on top of her blankets, legs tangled, both trying to reach hands and lips everywhere at once, rolling away from the edge, finally settling with him above her, his hands in her hair as she kissed him again and again. She recalled, back when she was actually having sex, that she’d generally preferred riding a man into submission but this, this was nice, this was good, this was _great_ , this was _I need better words for how good this is_ , breathing his scent, tasting his skin, body warm and heavy and touching everywhere, filling her arms, his chest rubbing against her breasts, the trail of the hair down his front tickling slightly against her stomach, his thighs pinning her legs as his mouth roamed across her lips and her jaw and her neck.

A teasing touch, light and fleeting, hovering just out of reach, his cock not quite there, brushing against the hair between her legs. Adelaide groaned, feeling wet and wanton and needy, and she shoved slightly against his shoulders to move herself downward, one hand almost pinned between them as she wrapped her fingers along his length, listening to him grunt, feeling his body shift, squeezing until he groaned, until she had him right where she wanted him, hand moving out of the way as her hips thrust up upon him. _Maker, yes, Sebastian,_ finally.

Her groan of relief shuddered into a hiss of pain, _wrong angle, too tight, too long since I’ve done this,_ and she felt him start to pull out, a hushed and worried “ _sorry, oh Adelaide, did I, are you,_ ” hovering just past his lips, voice wretched, the sharp edge of his self-control audible, brittle, about to crack. _He’ll never forgive himself if he thinks he hurt me._

“Don’t you dare,” she growled, wrapping her legs around his waist, tilting her hips against him with another hiss, hands flat against his shoulders as she glared into his eyes. _I want this, I did this, don’t blame yourself, don’t think you hurt me, please, don’t let me have ruined this_ “Don’t,” she swallowed, trying desperately to relax, to loosen everything a little around him, but equally desperate not to lose this feeling, the ache of pleasure hiding under the pinch of pain, the satisfaction of having him deep inside, filling her. _Please._ ”

“Maker, Adelaide,” his entire body was tense above her, muscles quivering as he held himself still, only letting his head move as he tucked it against her, right in the curve between her neck and her shoulder, breath uneven against her skin. “Please?”

“Please,” she repeated. “You.” She didn’t know how to say what she wanted, what she needed him to understand, wasn’t even sure she understood what she was doing. She lifted her chin to kiss him, bumping into his teeth, awkward, longing, _please_.

Sebastian shifted, just a little, carefully not pulling out, not even the little her legs would let him, but tilting, adjusting, and she moaned, stretching beneath him as something eased, just a little, and the _yes_ started to overwhelm the _ow_ , and she moaned roughly in the back of her throat, eyes closed as his arms slid underneath her arching back. “Ready?” His voice was shaky, rough, just barely even enough for her to figure out what he was saying past his brogue.

 _Ready for what?_ But she grunted her agreement, nodding against his head, and he lifted his hips, up and up again, both of them following as he rocked back, and then she was up, they were up, sitting on the mattress, she was sitting in his lap, legs still wrapped behind his back, his arms embracing her, hers tight around his shoulders, pressed together, she could feel his heart beating against her chest, so hard, harder than her own, and she made a noise she’d never heard before, mewling, broken in her throat, unable even to moan or cry as his hand cupped the back of her head, kissing and soothing as her body tried to clench around the heat of him inside her, over and over again, muscles trying to shift though her own legs held her too tightly against him to let her move, pain disappearing, forgotten, as the ache for _more_ started to build again, to feel him move, to hear him say her name again, and again.

“Sebastian,” she whispered, as his arms loosened, slowly, adjusting as he felt her relax against him, shifting her, easing her away until she could feel his thighs behind her back, supporting her weight, and her entire body focused on the sensation, the satisfaction, the feeling of him deep inside. Focused on the way his cock rested, firm and wonderful, filling her, rubbing slightly back and forth as she rocked her hips against him, just a little, loosing one soft gasp at the end of each arc, before she rocked back down again. Hot and flushed, body heavy, she lost track of time, lost in the feel of him, of warm skin under her palms, hair rubbing under her fingers, lost in the feel of warm hands stroking her body, her breasts, her hips. Firmer, longer strokes, until he was pushing down against her lower stomach, right above her mound, tightening her body until they both gasped at the pressure, so hot, so tight, and he briefly pulled her back up to him, mouths wide open, kisses wet and gasping.

Adelaide leaned back, just a little, and he mirrored her, leaning back on his hands as she stretched back against his legs, the angle _even better_ , his hips lifting up in time with her rocking, her gasps growing deeper and louder as the pressure built, as each shift rubbed just that slightest bit harder, found just the right spot to cause black sparks to dance before her eyes. Lines of heat blazed through her at every rock, pleasure building as his breathing grew heavier, matching her, pacing her. “Adelaide,” he moaned, and she shuddered, “oh, Adelaide,” and she groaned, “my beautiful, delectable, Adelaide,” she groaned louder, body tightening again, “so wet, so wanting,” he thrust up, harder, lifting them both off the mattress, and she keened, _almost there, so close_ , “all for me,” he thrust up again, “come for me, Adelaide.”

Her head flung back, eyes closed, she called his name as she was overwhelmed by the heat of her pleasure, the heat of her muscles as they tightened yet again, holding him, milking him, the heat of his seed as he spilled inside her, the heat of his voice as he called her name, following her, the heat of their skin everywhere they touched, bringing her back to her body, her bed. To him.

Quenched, exhausted, wet and sweaty and sticky and messy and happy, as soon as she could convince herself to move again, Adelaide nudged and shifted and shimmied until they were both settled properly, with sheets and blankets on top and them beneath and arms wrapped around each other, and her hair somehow _miraculously_ not in either of their faces. “There, she murmured softly, “pillows. Just for you.”

Sebastian laughed very softly, hand gently smoothing her hair, and she smiled as she fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

“It’s nice to see you again, Prince Vael,” Leandra smiled slightly, pouring tea into his mug before passing it towards him. “Sugar?”

“No thank you, Madame Hawke.” His warm masculine voice filled the small room where Leandra liked to take her afternoon tea, a small sitting room in her own suite, golden sunlight spilling through the skylight and pouring over the three people seated around her small table. “And please, call me Sebastian.”

“Leandra, then, Sebastian.” She poured her own mug before setting the pot back in the center of the table before her. “All of Adelaide’s friends call me Leandra.”

Adelaide snorted softly over her own mug, probably remembering some of Isabela’s more outrageous comments. Leandra had trouble keeping her mouth from twitching at the memory of a few of them, herself. “Whoo-hoo, Leandra, still mage-bait, aren’t you?” had been her particular favorite, back when she’d bought her first new dress, _red Orlesian silk_ , after they moved to Hightown.

Isabela could always make her smile.

Adelaide, on the other hand, was always so mortified on her mother’s behalf, as if Leandra hadn’t travelled back and forth across the Marches in her youth, before she and Malcolm made their way to Ferelden, and had heard much worse from people much less friendly than Isabela. The former Captain was always delighted with her vulgarity, after all, never harsh or cruel. A rare gift.

“Which you know already,” Leandra forced her attention back to the former Brother and their current conversation. “As you’ve been here for dinner several times before.” _Along with every other bizarre compatriot my daughter has managed to befriend. Ah well, they’re loyal, and mean well, even if they’re all mostly crazy._ She took one small bite of the tart on her plate, enjoying the tang of the fruit surrounded by Orana’s light pastry. “It is nice to have a quiet tea, though. Without having to worry about boot scuffs on the tables, or wine bottles found in odd corners for the next week.”

“Or getting roped into a training exercise with Daryn for the Guard, or a discussion of the merits of elfroot versus spindleweed?” Adelaide snicked, Sebastian’s soft chuckle a pleasant accompaniment.

“Ah, you only invited me to show your mother you know someone with proper manners, is that it?” He leaned in closer to Adelaide, aiming that disarming smile of his full-force at her, sliding the plate of tarts closer. “Cherry?”

Adelaide’s blush at his proximity and his question was something Leandra carefully filed under ‘something a mother really doesn’t want to know about’, but she had to admit it was rather adorable. Her daughter was so very obviously smitten. And equally obviously trying not to admit it.

“I must confess,” she interrupted her daughter's fumbling thanks thoughtfully, “I did rather wonder if there was an ulterior motive to this tea? Something you wished to tell me?” She raised her eyebrows at Sebastian. “An official announcement of some sort?”

“MOTHER!” Adelaide dropped her mug on the table, almost missing the saucer, hot tea spilling over her fingers. Sebastian, however, simply smiled back at her, eyes twinkling as he passed a napkin to her furious offspring. _Goodness, he’s charming when he does that._ “I can’t believe you’d... it’s not like that!”

“It’s not?” Leandra’s fingers tightened, eyebrows tightening into a frown aimed at that Vael fellow, who only shrugged very very slightly as Adelaide growled. His eyes, however, were still twinkling, and then, when Adelaide’s attention was thoroughly captured by wiping up her fingers, he winked. _Oh_ , Leandra almost grinned, forced to take a very large gulp of very hot tea to hide it. _It is like that, we’re just trying not to scare Adelaide off, are we? That sounds like Adelaide. Silly girl. She doesn’t stand a chance against those eyes._

“No, it’s not like that, and I don’t appreciate you interfering.” Adelaide muttered.

“Of course not,” Leandra turned a smile on her sulking daughter. “Sorry, dear. You can’t blame a mother for liking the idea of bright blue eyed grandchildren running around, now can you?” Adelaide choked, flushing bright red, sputtering incoherently, and Leandra had to swallow the urge to laugh. _Poor Adelaide, determined to pretend she isn’t completely enamored with the man._

But Sebastian, oh, Sebastian, she was watching him carefully out of the corners of her eyes, and she saw his eyes narrow, his nostrils flare, his fingers tighten around his mug. _That’s good. He wants that too. Well then, I’ll just let him take his time convincing Adelaide. Hope he’s stubborn. Silly girl thinks if she can pretend she’s not in love, she won’t ever get hurt again._

Leandra sighed softly, quite sure her own heartbreak after Malcolm’s death was largely responsible, the loss of the twins only highlighting a lesson poor Adelaide never should have learned in the first place. Leandra would never wish to have lost one minute of their time together, regardless of how much she missed them now.

Forcing such melancholy thoughts away, Leandra turned away from her daughter, smiling at her newly discovered co-conspirator in the quest to encourage Adelaide to _settle down_ , even if just a little. “Have you tried the tarts, Sebastian? They’re quite delicious.”

“Thank you, Leandra, I think I shall. I do adore cherries.”

**Author's Note:**

> The gaelic in here, which Sebastian is rightly keeping a secret so as not to scare Adelaide off, is roughly translated as "my love with you, my love forever, my most beloved" and then an outright "I love you". (Hopefully that's accurate, as I'm not remotely Scottish. Had to trust the internet for my translations.)


End file.
